


Do I Know Your Touch

by dramaticbanjo



Category: Inazuma Eleven GO
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 06:23:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4009210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramaticbanjo/pseuds/dramaticbanjo





	1. Chapter 1

 

Nishiki was a _nice_ person. He liked soccer, he liked his teammates, he liked getting along with new teammates, and he honestly cheered for the new players in Shinsei Inazuma. He liked Tenma, both as a captain and as a friend, and he liked it when Shindou congratulated them instead of giving them the ‘I’m disappointed in you but I’m not the captain’ voice.

He _wanted_ to get along with Zankurou. The newest member of the Earth Eleven was unfailingly polite and friendly. Tenma already got along with him, but that was only to be expected, and he complimented everyone when they did a good job.

There wasn’t actually a reason _not_ to like him, and that made the whole mess all the more frustrating. Zanakurou couldn’t help it, but whenever he smiled, Nishiki could see Zanark’s smirk, and whenever he spoke it was like Zanark was right there with him again.

The thought of the time traveler had brought unwanted emotions to him ever since they had gotten back from the future, and thinking about him usually made a lump appear in throat. The appearance of Zanakurou only made it worse—Zanakurou looked so much, _too much_ , like him, and yet was too polite, too kind to actually be him.

It kind of hurt, and Nishiki didn’t know _why_ it did.

So he avoided the actor.

 

            That worked for a few weeks, until Zanakurou found him and cornered him a deserted hallway of the training facility.

            “Nishiki-san.” His voice was determined, firm, but polite as usual. Nishiki could almost _see_ someone _else_ leaning against the wall, blocking his escape with an arm and a smirk. “I need to talk to you.”

            “Er, sure, Ichikawa-san.” Nishiki picked at his bag strap, the red eyes that rested on his calmly making him nervous for some reason. “What can I do for you?” Zanakurou frowned a little, clasping his hands in front of him, a nervous habit he did when he was thinking, “This might be…” He trailed off slightly, and then stopped fidgeting with his hands, dropping them to his sides, “Nishiki-san, I have to ask you…do you hate me?”

That caught the midfielder off guard, and he almost dropped his bag, “Do I…hate you?”

Zanakurou looked slightly shamefaced, and Nishiki immediately felt a little bit of guilt, as it looked like his attempts at avoiding the other boy hadn’t gone unnoticed as much as he would have liked. “N-no! I don’t at all, Za—Ichikawa-san!”

Zanakurou bit his lip and looked down, and Nishiki let out a deep breath, slumping slightly against the wall behind him. Part of his mind _wanted_ to keep the memories of Zanark to himself, in some sort of selfish sense of; _I’m the one that met him. I’m the one he liked._

But another part of his mind was saying that it wasn’t fair to treat Zanakurou like that. He hadn’t done anything wrong; in fact, he had been remarkably good about Nishiki’s previously surly attitude towards him. He at least deserved to know why.

            “Zan—Ichikawa-san, there’s…it’s a little…” Zanakurou’s face was calm and understanding, even after the few false starts, “…When Raimon was away…there was someone else I met.” The other’s red eyes were nothing but kind. “…We were friends, even though we fought against each other.” His voice was halting, but Zanakurou seemed not to be bothered by it. “I guess it was only when we all got back to Raimon, I realized…that it really sank in…that I wouldn’t be able to see him again.” Zanakurou’s expression was troubled and quiet, and Nishiki wondered for a moment if he had sad something wrong in his story.

            “…And I…”

            “You look like him. I’m sorry, Ichikawa-san, you didn’t do anything…”

Zanakurou looked up, and Nishiki actually met his gaze.

            “Nishiki-san, I’m going to say this: I am not your friend, and I don’t know exactly what he would think…but I think you shouldn’t be stuck in memories of the past all the time.” Nishiki opened his mouth like he might try to say something, but Zanakurou pressed on, “Remembering him is one thing, but I can see in your eyes that whatever happened is on your mind too much. You have to move past it.” His expression softened, “I hope I wasn’t out of line. If you’ll excuse me, Nishiki-san…please, think on what I’ve said.”

As the other walked away, Nishiki just looked down at his shoes. Though it hurt slightly to admit it, the actor was right.

Releasing a deep sigh, he leaned back against the wall, and could almost see Zanark against the wall across from him, arms crossed with his trademark smirk on his face.

            _Oy, Nishiki, what’s with that look on your face? Don’t tell me you’ve been over thinking things you don’t have to. Don’t get so hung up on me that you turn soft, or I’ll destroy you and never forgive you._

            “…I just miss you.”

            _You probably always will. But I’m not going to be the chain that keeps you from moving forward. If you keep getting stronger, maybe I’ll come back for a rematch._

            “But I thought you couldn’t come back. Nobody could travel now that there wasn’t a reason to.”

            _Ha! You really think that can stop Super Zanark?_ He could almost see Zanark’s expression soften, or at least, the version of it for him; _Go on and run forward, Nishiki! You’re not going to forget me._

Nishiki closed his eyes briefly, and then opened them. The vivid image of Zanark wasn’t there anymore, but giving his friend that deep thought had been good.

He turned to look up the hall, where Zanakurou had disappeared to, and with a smile, left the empty hall as well.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Will you ever tell him the truth?_


	2. Chapter 2

Truthfully, Nishiki hadn’t been a theater person. He liked movies, but he was not someone you wanted to take to a theater, as he talked and jumped in his seat when he got excited. For actual plays in an actual theater, he had been to one once in grade school, and had promptly been banned from coming to those school field trips ever again.   
Sitting through an entire Kabuki performance would be almost like torture, even though he knew they were going to support Tenma’s team mate Zanakurou, and he happened to be one of the people from Raimon who had drawn the short straw.   
It wasn’t just the thought of sitting still and quiet for two hours that put Nishiki on edge. The Kabuki actor, Ichikawa Zanakurou, brought too many memories of Zanark to the front of his mind, and seeing someone practically wearing Zanark’s face yet acting so different made it feel like there was acid in the pit of his stomach.   
He knew it was unreasonable; after all, Zanakurou hadn’t done anything even remotely bad to him, and had been nothing but unfailingly polite to him and the rest of the team whenever they met.   
Unfortunately, a part of Nishiki’s mind still rebuffed him, repeating to him that Zanark wouldn’t act so courteous or humble, wouldn’t be proper and wouldn’t let someone like Tsurugi actually make the shots at the goal. No, Zanark would be loud and obnoxious, making sure everyone could hear his voice whether they wanted to or not, and most certainly wouldn’t apologize for having his towering ego take up the entire room.   
He slouched further into his seat as the play started. This was going to be a long two hours. 

Really, he had only gone to the bathroom, but had gotten lost looking for the Inazuma bus and somehow ended up wandering around the building for a good fifteen minutes. Nishiki sighed, leaning against the wall; well, at least it still hasn’t been totally bad, he reasoned with himself, getting lost coming back from the bathroom aside.  
“Ah, Nishiki-san? What are you doing back here?”   
Zanakurou was leaning out of one of the doors leading back stage, hair undone like he had just finished changing and wiping all of the thick stage make up off, shirt twisted like he had just pulled it on. “Uh…” Was Nishiki’s intelligent answer.   
Before he could put up some protest, the actor had already opened the door wider, smiled politely and offered a drink while they waited for everyone else to gather up.   
The back stage of the theater was even more chaotic than the Raimon locker rooms, even though Zanakurou and the other people Nishiki saw knew their way around perfectly fine and probably knew exactly where everything was.   
Meanwhile, Nishiki was just glad that he was able to avoid stepping on make up sets and discarded rags.   
The room that had a small sign marked ‘ZANAKUROU’ with a small lion was, thankfully, more clear, although Nishiki noticed clothes awkwardly shoved into drawers and the make up table was still more mess than table.   
“Nishiki-san, I want to ask you something…”   
“Hm?” Nishiki made an off hand sound, accepting the bottle of green tea that was offered. “Do you…not like me?” The question made him almost choke on his drink, and Zanakurou bit his lip, looking down at his hands.   
There was an awkward silence as Nishiki tried to arrange his thoughts in acceptable answer that didn’t involve talking about time travel or unresolved thoughts about Zanark.   
“No…” He began awkwardly, shifting his drink between his hands so they would be occupied, “It’s, um, complicated…”   
Zanakurou’s red eyes were kind, but the way they stayed focused on him made Nishiki nervous; the last time eyes like that had looked at him so interestedly, Zanark had switched sides three times just to fight him.   
“You don’t have to tell me, Nishiki-san.” A smile, and Nishiki had to fight himself not to look away from the other.  
“Er, Zanakurou-san…”  
“Yes?”  
Part of him was still calling him an idiot for even thinking about telling Zanakurou about his problems with Zanark.   
Another part said that it was unfair that Zanakurou didn’t even know why Nishiki acted so fidgety around him.   
“…Nevermind.” And yet another part of him couldn’t quite find words to begin explaining his troubles. He found himself studying the floor instead of looking at the other, until he felt a warm hand on top of his own. Zanakurou’s smile was comforting, but almost shy, and it made Nishiki’s ears heat up.   
“You don’t have to share with me, Nishiki-san. I’m just happy that you don’t hate me.” The blush spread in a flash to the rest of his face, and Nishiki suddenly became very interested in drinking the rest of his tea, leaving the Kabuki actor to make a confused sound.   
“Th-thanks for the drink! I think I remember the way to the front now!”   
“Nishiki-san?”   
With all the prowess of one of Raimon’s ace players, Nishiki leapt to his feet and left, almost running, from the room. Zanakurou remained sitting in the same place he had been, a surprised and slightly puzzled expression on his face. 

Meanwhile, through what appeared to be sheer luck, Nishiki did find the front entrance, where everyone else was waiting for some other people to wander back from the gift shops and little businesses up the street, and for the bus to make it through traffic again.   
Midori raised an eyebrow at him leaning on the back of a bench to regain his breath, and the blush that was still evident on his ears.   
“Ryouma, what’s up with you?”  
“N-nothing!”   
The look on her face said that she clearly didn’t believe him, but before she could wring the truth out from him, the bus pulled up, and he ran in, making sure she got stuck behind Amagi and the rest of the defenders, forcing her to sit in the front of the bus with the other managers, instead of interrogating him.


End file.
